


Wrecked

by Hallianna



Series: Deep In the Velvet Black: Trope Fics for Andromeda Six [1]
Category: Andromeda Six (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Tropes, Tropey as hell, hints of damon/cal/traveler, how many tropes can i fit into this thing, it's just a vehicle for smut, making out to avoid a fight, someone stop me before i write that threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:46:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallianna/pseuds/Hallianna
Summary: He scoffed but didn’t move away. “I already know all their dirty laundry.”Ilya lifted an eyebrow at that. “Hmm, I bet.” Her gaze drifted to his lips. “Care to make a wager on that?”Damon couldn’t stop the lazy grin spreading over his face. She was a fast learner. “Big mistake. I always win.”Ilya grinned back at him and his heart did a funny little flip. She reached out and flicked a finger against his dog tags, her nail pinging off the metal and making a small, tinny sound. Damon bit back a groan - she might as well have run a hand down his chest. “If I win, you teach me how to handle a knife.”Shit, I’d agree to that any day. Watching her toss a blade, sweat glistening on her skin. “And if I win?”Her face settled into a mask, but something sparked behind her eyes. She leaned in further. “What do you want?”To push all these bottles and cups off the bar, scream at everyone to get out, and strip you naked so I can lick every inch of you. “Don’t you know better than to ask an assassin that?” he bit out, cursing at how rattled he sounded. Ilya, however, flicked her nail against his dog tags again and he grabbed her hand. “You’re playing with fire, Your Highness.”
Relationships: Damon Reznor/Original Female Character(s), Damon Reznor/Traveler
Series: Deep In the Velvet Black: Trope Fics for Andromeda Six [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020316
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Is this a tropey vehicle for some smut? You bet it is. I was dared by a friend to write some lovely trope-fic, so here we are!
> 
> I have no shame and do not care.
> 
> My thanks to good buddy Sam for making me laugh and falling in love with Damon as much as I did. If you want to listen to us fall over ourselves for all the A6 crew, we did the first part of a playthrough here; https://youtu.be/KGXbzl4Ux8g
> 
> General spoilers for the game, but nothing too specific.
> 
> Playlist here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/09kZGgiSGKO5lX0yvlv6Up?si=DoARtQIQR12AbEdDcR1HhQ

“What a shit hole.” Damon slid onto the bar stool with ease. The fact that it was precariously balanced didn’t seem to bother the man. His bright blue eyes assessed the surroundings; seemingly satisfied, he turned on Ilya. “Now we wait. Might as well drink, Princess.”

Ilya bit her cheek. It was that, or bite back at him. And that usually didn’t end well for _her_. “Fine, but I’m ordering for both of us.”

He chuckled and the low, dark sound slithered around her spine. _Damn him_. “Whatever you want, Your Majesty.”

She let out an exasperated groan before signaling the bartender. “How long are you going to do that for?”

Another chuckle. “As long as it makes you groan.” He leaned in, close enough that his breath ghosted over the shell of her ear. “Think I can make you moan next?”

_Motherfucker._

Damon sat back and watched her as she desperately tried to get the bartender’s attention. She squirmed on her stool, face flushing, but her mouth was set in a stern line. Ilya was extra cute when she was trying to suppress how she felt. But her wide green eyes and plush mouth gave her away almost every time. And if she managed to school those into a stony mask, then the gills on the side of her neck would flutter ever so slightly.

The last time he’d stared at her neck she’d caught him, slapped a hand over her gills, and told him to knock it off. 

_“Knock off what?”_

_“Don’t you play innocent with me, Damon. Stop.”_

_“Stop?”_

_“UGH. Stop eye-fucking me.”_

_“Make me.”_

Even without all those little signs, he’d still know when he’d riled her. Something about her, from the moment they’d met, had pulled them together. Attraction came to him like the black came to the galaxy, but he would never admit that he found a lot of people beautiful in certain ways. Hell, even _Calderon_ had his appeal (and there was no fucking way in fucking hell he’d ever EVER divulge that to anyone). But Ilya was fun. Different. He’d thought her a wide-eyed innocent, sheltered and naive and a little stuck-up. And maybe part of that was true, but she was quickly baring her teeth. Mostly at him. 

He liked watching her give as good as she got; he wondered if that carried over into other activities than verbally sparring with him.

Two ales were plunked down in front of them and Damon eyed his warily. “The fuck is this?”

Ilya shrugged. “Whatever was on tap.”

“I’m never letting you order again.”

She laughed. “Serves you right, Reznor.”

He growled at her. Few people ever called him Reznor and most of those people were two seconds away from shitting their pants when they did. He flicked his gaze to her - she was grinning at him, all perfectly even white teeth and charm.

_I’m a fucking goner, aren’t I?_

Ilya took a delicate sip of her drink and pulled a face. “Disgusting. So, how long are we waiting for?”

Damon pushed his drink away, barely able to conceal his scowl. “We wait as long as it takes the contact to show up and hand over the goods. Then we leave. Easy.”

“And if they don’t show up?”

“Then I find them and put a boot up their ass. Then find whoever hired _them_ and put a boot up _their_ ass.”

Ilya didn’t flinch. She was used to Damon’s quick violence by now. “And I’m assuming if it’s the latter, we should expect something bad to happen while we’re here.”

He winked and pointed a finger at her. “Now you’re catching on, Princess. Glad to know you’ve been listening.”

She turned on her barstool to face him, resting her chin in her hand. The movement leveled her gaze so they were staring at each other. “I’m good at listening. Comes from all that hiding behind doors and around corners, snooping on everyone else in the palace.”

He smirked at that. “Little eavesdropper, huh?” He leaned in, quick like a snake. “Done any eavesdropping on the ship?”

“Maybe.” She leaned in as well. “Looking for secrets on your crewmates, huh?”

He scoffed but didn’t move away. “I already know all their dirty laundry.”

Ilya lifted an eyebrow at that. “Hmm, I bet.” Her gaze drifted to his lips. “Care to make a wager on that?”

Damon couldn’t stop the lazy grin spreading over his face. She was a fast learner. “Big mistake. I always win.”

Ilya grinned back at him and his heart did a funny little flip. She reached out and flicked a finger against his dog tags, her nail pinging off the metal and making a small, tinny sound. Damon bit back a groan - she might as well have run a hand down his chest. “If I win, you teach me how to handle a knife.”

_Shit, I’d agree to that any day. Watching her toss a blade, sweat glistening on her skin._ “And if I win?”

Her face settled into a mask, but something sparked behind her eyes. She leaned in further. “What do you want?”

_To push all these bottles and cups off the bar, scream at everyone to get out, and strip you naked so I can lick every inch of you._ “Don’t you know better than to ask an assassin that?” he bit out, cursing at how rattled he sounded. Ilya, however, flicked her nail against his dog tags again and he grabbed her hand. “You’re playing with fire, Your Highness.”

She gave a mock gasp and bit her lip, her eyes hooded and dark and beckoning. “I am? Oh by all the stars, I didn’t know.”

Keeping his hand steady, he cupped her jaw, his thumb dragging across the laugh lines just above her mouth. “Dangerous little thing, aren’t you?” he murmured, unable to look away.

“If you win, you should teach me something else,” she said, voice gone low, body tensing. 

“Just say the word,” he replied, letting his thumb touch the corner of her pretty lips. 

The sound of gunfire nearby snapped them both back to reality. Damon went for his weapons and pulled Ilya off her stool. “We’re leaving.”

“The contact?” she protested but Damon shook his head.

“Too dangerous. Fuck, I knew this was a setup.” He dragged her behind the bar, shouting at everyone to get low or get out. He didn’t wait for the bartender to point a shaky finger at the bar’s back door. He bolted, Ilya’s hand safely in his, as they dashed into the alley behind the building. 

Gunfire and screams erupted all around them; Damon felt his blood heat, his jaw clench as adrenaline spiked through his body. “We need to get back to the ship _undetected_ ,” he said in her ear. “You do what I say, when I say it. Got it?” Ilya nodded and satisfied with her acquiescence, he began sliding along the alley wall, keeping to the shadows. Twilight was descending so he wasn’t too worried about being seen in the moment, but the sounds of gunfire were coming closer and he only knew of two routes out and back to the ship.

“When I say run, we run.” Damon waited for her to nod again. Her hand clenched around his and he smiled grimly. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Promise.” He motioned at his chest. “Breathe, Ilya. In and out. Slow and easy.” 

“I’m trying,” she said through gritted teeth, her eyes darting to the corner as they neared the end of the alley.

In a quick move, he spun her against the wall, putting a hand on her sternum. “Don’t. Move.” Her eyes widened and he shook his head. “Someone’s coming,” he whispered as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Yanked flush against him, Damon could feel how cold she was. He put his lips against her ear as he reached into his coat for his knife. “Easy.”

Ilya could hear footsteps now, coming closer to their little alcove. “Damon…”

“Easy, Princess.” His fingers tightened on her waist. “If I move, you run. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

The footsteps slowed. Damon heard the crunch of gravel under heavy boot. _Guards. Can’t take the chance that it’s city guards and they’ll be nice to two strangers in an alley. Fuck._

He made a split second decision, searching Ilya’s face for a brief, precious moment. “Kiss me.”

Ilya’s eyebrows practically flew up into her hairline. “What?”

Damon relinquished his grip on his knife and slid warm fingers along her jaw. “Kiss me. No one likes PDA and coming across two people making out tends to send most running.” His face softened, his eyes dragging over her mouth. “Please.”

Ilya’s knees buckled but she reached out to run her fingers over his cheek. “Okay,” she whispered before balling a fist in his coat and pulling him to her.


	2. Chapter 2

His fingers clenched on her waist, his lips slid against hers, and he was _lost_ . Ilya practically vibrated in his grip, tension and release batting back and forth as they kissed. He wanted to make it good for her, slow and steady instead of tumbling headfirst into _ohfuckneedyousobad_. But he heard the footsteps round the corner and danger pricked at the back of his neck. 

With one hand, he reached back into his coat for his knife and with the other grabbed her thigh, pulling her leg up around his waist, pinning their bodies together. Ilya moaned against his mouth and he took the opening, twining his tongue around hers and turning the kiss filthy. He vaguely registered her clever fingers skating up his ribs, could feel every bit of explorative pressure through his thin shirt.

She was soft and warm and pliant under his hands and he knew immediately how pretty she’d look bent over the tiny desk in his room, moaning and sighing around him.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered roughly when she paused for breath. “Don’t.”

“Damon? Ilya? Oh thank the stars - oh my god.” There’s a yelp and then a hurried, “Sorry! I uh, didn’t see anything, I swear.”

Damon pulled away from Ilya’s lips and straightened. The look he gave Ryona could have one-shotted her from one hundred yards. “Thought you were guards.” He looked down at Ilya, worry creasing his handsome face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m….good.” Her smile was shaky but he could see her lust-blown pupils. Ilya ran a hand through her long auburn hair, trying to fix the tangled bump from where her head had rubbed against the wall. The motion drew his gaze down her body. Her thin, nondescript clothing, good against prying eyes and the incoming summer was perfect for blending into a crowd, but it did nothing to disguise her desire.

 _I want to lick them. I bet they’re as sweet as she is._ _I bet everything on her is sweet._

“We should….go,” Ryona said from her spot around the corner. “Bash found a better path back and when you didn’t return - “

“Yeah, got it,” he snapped, then his tone softened. “You ready, Ilya?”

She slipped her hand into his. “Let’s go home.”  
  


* * *

  
Ilya let Ryona fuss over her for several long minutes once they arrived at the ship. Not that she got much of a choice, since the woman practically dragged her by the arm to the med lab, while Calderon stomped around Damon, admonishing him for his “carelessness”. Which wasn’t fair, since everything had been fine until it wasn’t. Damon wasn’t a mind reader, he couldn’t have known a fight between two rival gangs would break out right that second.

“Are you certain you’re all right, Ilya?”

Ilya jerked her head to the left, where Ryona was watching her with those yellow eyes. “Huh? Wha-yeah. I’m okay. Just...wild night.”

To Ryona’s credit, she kept the smirk off her face even as she replied, “I’ll say. June says there’s a massive city guard force out in the streets, arresting everyone in sight. You two got lucky.”

Ilya narrowed her eyes at Ryona, making the other woman giggle. “That’s just cruel. You’re teasing me.”

“I have every right to. Up until today I have managed to go years without seeing Damon shove his tongue down another’s throat. Now I get to live with that memory, thank you very much.”

Ilya couldn’t resist. “Not your type?”

“Damon’s everyone’s type,” Ryona retorted, but she hesitated when Ilya pulled a strange face. “Sorry it’s just...with Damon, most people look but don’t touch. Too pointy.” She sidled next to Ilya, curiosity lighting up her eyes. “I mean….how was it?”

Ilya sputtered a laugh. “Are we gossiping?”

“I’m just so curious.”

She laughed again, mostly at the eagerness in Ryona’s tone. “It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Which isn’t saying much, since I didn’t really have lovers in my previous life.”

Ryona hopped up beside Ilya on the table, her gaze assessing. “So what are you going to do?”

_I want to push him against the wall, pull his trousers down, and take him in my mouth, just to hear him moan. I want him vulnerable and panting against me, under me. I have never, ever wanted someone as badly as I do him._

But of course she didn’t say any of that. Instead, she told another kind of truth. “I don’t know.”  
  


* * *

  
“Not now, Commander."

Cal growled at his second in command. “You could have been killed - both of you.”

Suppressing the urge to flip Cal off, Damon shoved his hands into his pockets. “We were fine. The gunfire had nothing to do with us -”

“I know that,” Cal bit out. “Why the hell were you down an alley when you should have immediately made for the ship?”

“That’s what we were _trying_ to do!” A flash of frustration flickered across Damon’s features and he immediately cursed under his breath. He didn’t mean to lose his cool, especially not with Cal. “I already contacted Oppo and they’re tracking our dealer for us. Should have something tomorrow. And next time I don’t take the newbie.”

Cal raked his fingers through his hair and began to pace. “Fine. I’ll message Oppo and offer a rush payment. I want that info first thing in the morning.”

“Take it out of my pay,” Damon replied quietly. “Least I can do.”

That brought Cal up short. He stopped mid-pace to whirl on the shorter man, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Considering I’m about to look the gift-horse in the mouth here….why?”

Damon shrugged, aiming for _nonchalant_ and landing more around _feigned carelessness_. “You’re right, I should have been more careful. More alert. I fucked up, I’ll pay for it.”

He had to give the big man credit - he moved _fast_. Suddenly Cal was looming over him, his eyes shrouded in the dim light of the cargo bay. “And this has nothing to do with your little...indiscretion?”

 _She’s neither of those things_ , Damon almost said but instead bit the inside of his cheek. He reached up and patted Cal on the cheek. “Nothing for you to worry your pretty head over, Captain.”

He slipped out of the circle of Cal’s shadow and began to walk away, stopped by Cal’s words. “Be careful, Reznor. I don’t think she’ll enjoy being toyed with.”

Damon barked out a laugh. “Oh, I think that’s exactly what she wants.” He turned back to the captain, dark blue eyes and smirking mouth teasing. “Unless you want to join in on the fun?”

 _Nice to know I haven’t lost my touch_ , he thought as he walked out of the cargo hold, leaving a slack-jawed Calderon behind.

Damon chuckled all the way back to his room, savoring the picture of Cal gaping at him like a fish. As he neared the med bay, he heard two distinct, feminine laughs behind the door. It almost stopped him, but the thought of facing Ilya down right that second wasn’t his best move. He needed to pull himself together. Collect his thoughts. Come up with a plan. Then act. Everyone thought he simply stuck to the shadows and stuck people with knives, but they didn’t know the planning that went into every move he made. Aya was the one you had to worry about springing into action without a second thought, followed closely by Bash. Everyone else was more measured, maybe even cautious. That’s why he liked going on mission with June - the big man was precise, formidable, and deadly, and wanted to know everything he could about a situation, but would act if needed. Perfect combination.

And speak of the devil….June was coming down the hallway right for him. Damon tipped his chin toward June, who nodded in response. “I’m off comms for a bit,” Damon said as they passed each other in the hall. “Got some research to do.”

“I’ll let Cal know.” And then in a move that shocked the shit out of Damon, June put a hand on Damon’s shoulder. “You all right?”

That brought Damon up short. He recovered quickly, saying, “Yeah, all good. Doc’s checking newbie over and I’m gonna decompress.”

June’s grey gaze swept over Damon’s slightly rumpled coat. When he seemed satisfied with whatever he saw, he nodded. “Yell if you need anything.” And then he winked. “Try to be good.”

Damon blinked at him, then laughed. “Hope you got it out of your system, cowboy, cause that’s the only shot you’re getting.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” And June walked down the hall toward the mess, hands shoved into his pockets.

_Christ, they gossip like a bunch of old hens._

By the time Damon got to his room and let the pneumatic locks hiss shut, he was beat. All that pent up energy with no outlet left him tilting on the edge of exhaustion, but his mind wandered. He spared a glance to his bed and had to shake his head. _You so badly want her, your imagination is running away with itself. Snap out of it. Go jack off in the shower and be done with it._ But he couldn’t deny the delectable image his imagination was conjuring up - Ilya, naked, writhing, fisting the sheets. Her hair fanned out behind her, auburn so bright it burned his eyes. The sound of her gasp as he pressed his tongue against her folds and sampled her. Tasting. Teasing. Making her moan his name over and over again.

Damon braced himself on the wall, palms pressed flat against the cold metal, trying to shock his system back into operation. And just as he lowered his head and took a deep breath, he was done for. His clothes smelled like her - citrus and salt and a bit of lavender. He was practically wrapped in her scent. It wound around him like a fist in his hair and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. 

_Would she yank his hair back like that? Force him to look up at her while she slid down his body? Would she take what she wanted and let him do so in return?_

His vision swam and he had to press a hand against the growing tent in his trousers. “Fuck me,” he said to the empty space of his room.


	3. Chapter 3

_Just get to your room where you can think in peace for a second_. Ilya repeated that mantra with every other step down the long metal hallways of the ship. Now removed from the attentions of Ryona and the curious faces of the other crew members, she could scurry into the darkness and feel everything she was keeping bottled up.

But Damon’s door was _right there_. What if she just knocked? Surely that would be okay.

Right?

But she hesitated. He could be anywhere on the ship. She looked down and saw thin curls of steam from under the door. They swirled around her boots, toying with her ankles. 

And now she was thinking about Damon wet and naked. _Just go. Leave him be for now._

But her traitorous body moved closer, raising her fist to knock.

“Ah, god. Fuck.”

Damon’s voice was tight, restrained. Like he was trying to be quiet; hilarious in a ship that was partially soundproofed in the private living area. For what felt like the upteenth time in a few scant hours, Ilya’s eyes widened. Was he in pain? 

“Fucking shit, oh my god.” And then a moan, low and rib-rattling. _Ilya, how stupid are you? That’s not pain._

“God, Ilya. Want you so much.”

Hands raised, she backed away from the door and then rushed down the hallway, not stopping, barely breathing until her door was safely locked behind her. Ilya slumped against the door and slid to the floor, her heartbeat in her ears. Her whole body felt tight, too wound up to do anything other than pulse with need. Her entire being was practically screaming for release, but all she could do was sit on the floor and stare.

The game she and Damon had been playing for weeks was going to lead to this. Okay, maybe not her eavesdropping on him while he was….touching himself in the shower and saying her name, but still. From the moment she’d awoken on the ship with no memory, they’d bandied back and forth, sniping and biting at each other. But every exchange had been undercut by a current of sexual tension. Damon rarely touched her, or she him, but something frissoned in the air between them. And the first - yes, the first - time he’d pinned her against the wall was memorable. The second and third times were just as exciting.

The fourth time? An escalation.

_Ilya hummed to herself as she walked down the hall. It had been a good day. Aya had taken her shopping, Bash had bought her lunch, and she’d shared a few ales with the others._

_Everyone but Damon. Calderon had waved his hand and offered a mumbled excuse for the assassin’s disappearance, but Ilya was having too much of a good time to fret._

_She glanced down to admire the little blue and green pendant that hung low on her chest. “It’s for good luck,” Ryona had told her. “A raw tilka stone on a leather cord is an old tradition for Tilaarians. I hope it brings you some joy.”_

_It had been a long day, but a fun one. Something she hadn’t seen in….likely a long time. Tatters of her memory still clung to her like old paint, chipping and peeling. And there were days where she wasn’t sure what had happened and what she’d dreamt up. But today was solid in her mind. She was grateful for that. And for them._

_“Back from your little trip so soon?”_

_And then there was him. If she turned now, he’d be smirking and handsome and cocky and she simply wasn’t in the mood. “It was nice,” she replied over her shoulder, but she didn’t stop walking._

_His dry chuckle prickled at the back of her neck, but she held steady. One foot in front of the other. But a hand on her wrist stopped her. Ilya glanced down, confused for the briefest of moments why she felt warm skin on hers._

_Damon always wore gloves; this was fact. And now he wasn’t. Also fact. Ilya felt her world tilt a little, like someone had tipped the game board._

_“Wanted to apologize,” he said quietly as he released her wrist and walked around to face her. “I shouldn’t have said anything about selling you out.” He paused, searching her face for something. When she stared blankly at him, he sighed. “Growing up where I did, living like I have….my instinct is self-preservation. I shouldn’t have said it.”_

_She gave him a calm smile. “But you would have thought it anyway.”_

_He shrugged. “They all did. Okay maybe not the cowboy or Doc, but the rest did, even just for a brief second.”_

_Ilya frowned, but she couldn’t bring herself to say she understood. Not yet. Logically it made sense. But some tiny part of her stung, a little scorpion tail of betrayal poking at her. But that was something to deal with on her own time. Not now. “It’s all right, Damon,” she finally said, holding up a hand to stop the odd tumble of his words. “No harm done.”_

_That made him grin. “Glad to hear it.” His gaze flicked down to the floor for a moment before it laser-focused on her. “Sleep well, princess.”_

_Bastard, she thought as he walked away. Her brain screamed at her to stop, think, but she said, “That’s it?”_

_Damon stopped in his tracks. “That’s it….what?” he asked without turning around._

_“No teasing? No sly remarks? And no gloves?” She was pushing his buttons to see what he’d do, but she couldn’t stop the concern rising up in her chest. It made her breathing tight and she didn’t like it._

_“You’re concerned about me.” It definitely wasn’t a question, not in that dry tone. And especially not when he spun on his heel to stare at her. “Where did that come from?”_

_Ilya shrugged, taking a deep breath. “You just seemed off. I was worried.”_

_The corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. “Hmmm, no one ever worries about me, princess. You’ll learn that soon.”_

_She huffed. “That seems unfair. You’re really telling me no one watches out for you?” He shrugged, the movement fluid. Careless. She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re lying.”_

_“Maybe. Maybe not.” Damon leaned in, his grin sharp like his knives. “Does it matter?”_

_With a growl, she shoved at his shoulders, letting her anger and confusion carry them back until he hit the wall. He gripped her arms to stop her own forward momentum but he didn’t let go. And she didn’t resist. “You are so frustrating. Aggravating man.”_

_With gentle fingers, he touched the tip of her chin. “You like it.”_

_“Hardly.”_

_“Hmmm, I think you do.” His other hand slid up her arm, the heat of his skin soaking through her jacket. He squeezed her bicep, then let his fingers dance over her shoulder. “You like being twisted about.” His voice dropped, his gaze settled on her lips. “Teased. Touched.”_

_All higher function in her brain stopped. Her mouth dropped open as he traced her bottom lip. Damon’s eyes had gone soft, his face relaxed. Braced against the wall, he was holding up her weight, even though she had him caged against the cold metal._

_“Do you want me to touch you?” Ilya sucked in a breath and he grinned. “You do.” He leaned in, breath hot on her neck, and inhaled. “You smell so good. Like sunlight. Do you smell like that everywhere?” Ilya made a strangled, frustrated noise and he hummed in response, staring at her through shadowed eyes. “I bet you make the prettiest noises, just like that.”_

_It took every ounce of her strength, but she pushed away from him. Damon remained as he was, one boot propped up on the wall, arms loose at his sides. He was devastating, and he knew it. Ilya let him feel her gaze scraping over him and took a bit of pride in watching him shift ever so slightly. Her body screamed for him, but she’d be damned if he let him have all the fun. “I do,” she said with a grin before walking away._

_His delighted laugh echoed down the hall._

* * *

She couldn’t sleep. Ilya twisted in her sheets, seeking the ghost of a touch that had abandoned her all too soon. Damon’s strangled groans of pleasure still rang in her ears, but instead of embarrassment, she felt disappointed in herself. 

Why did Damon get to be the one to chase? Why was she not taking what she wanted?

 _That’s it_ , she thought, kicking off the covers and slipping her arms into her robe. _I’m not waiting anymore._

_Especially not after that kiss._

If she concentrated, she could still taste him on her lips. Still feel his grip on her waist. She _needed_ him.

The ship was cool and quiet as she walked its halls. Damon’s room was just around the corner, but time seemed to slow as she approached his door. Ilya didn’t even stop to admire the view from the window, something she did almost every time she passed it. But her attention was focused somewhere other than the idle musings of personal insignificance amidst all that black.

She hesitated outside his door, head cocked to listen. No sound came from within, which meant nothing. So with a deep breath, she knocked.

* * *

Damon couldn’t sleep. He didn’t sleep much on any given night but tonight, right now, his mind wouldn’t shut up. He replayed those moments in the alley, fighting against the urge to touch himself again. The shower should have been enough - hot water, an overactive imagination, and a few quick thrusts into his fist and he was spilling onto the shower wall. It had done the job, but apparently hadn’t satisfied the raw need in his bones.

He licked his teeth, frustrated with how unraveled he was. She’d gotten into his system and it was an itch he couldn’t scratch. Sex was supposed to be a release, a way to relieve tension that didn’t involve stabbing someone. It felt good, it was fun, and he had no problems finding partners.

Why was she different? Why did he hesitate with her? They’d bite and tease and prod and poke each other until someone wound up pinned against a wall, but until tonight they’d never done more than briefly touch. 

He wanted her so badly it burned. 

With a growl he slid his hand down to the waistband of his sweatpants, closing his eyes against the sensation of his fingers tracing strong abdomen muscles. He pictured her above him, _her_ fingers touching him, teasing him. _Her_ hand sliding under his pants, seeking, tracing. _Her_ fist closing around his half hard cock and stroking once. Twice.

And then she knocked at his door.

Damon froze, blinking against the dim light in his room. It had to be her. Nothing else made sense; not this late. He grinned; he couldn’t help it. 

Apparently they both wanted something.

Damon stalked to the door, considering teasing her one more time. But while he was a vicious killer and a tease, he wasn’t cruel. He punched the door command and it slid open. 

Ilya stood there, staring at his naked chest. The pants hanging so low off his hips one swift yank would bare him to her. He was sculpted. Perfect. _Gorgeous_. All sinew and muscle and deep lines contoured around the hard planes of his abs. And those lines went lower, disappearing into those sinfully loose pants. She wanted to lick along those lines.

“Want me to flex a little? I can put on a good show.”

She licked her lips and grinned wolfishly at him. “Who needs a show when I can just ogle you?”

Damon had to suppress the smirk threatening to cross his face. Instead, he thumbed at the waistband of his pants, tugging one edge down just a little bit more. “I’ll let you take them off if you’re extra good.”

She shook her head and stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind her. “I don’t want to be good right now.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dirty, dirty smut (including spanking)
> 
> Remember everyone, consent is important.

A shiver went down Damon’s spine at her words. He raised an eyebrow, cocked his head, and held his arms out and away from his sides. “So don’t be.”

Before nerves could get the better of her, Ilya stepped in front of him, the soft fabric of her robe brushing against his stomach. “Like this?”

“Like however you want, sweetheart,” he purred, tipping his chin up in invitation. “I’ll even stand still for you.”

Her palms itched and there was a flare of heat in her belly so intense it threatened to buckle her at the knees. But she ignored all that - what she wanted was to _feel_. Ilya put her palms flat on the plane of his pectoral muscles, feeling him suck in a breath at her touch. She kept her eyes fixed on his chest so she could stare at the smooth expanse of skin marred only by a few old scars.

“Surprised?” It was less a word and more a rumble of noise from deep in his throat. 

That made her look up questioningly. Looking at and being this close to Damon was like touching a live wire: dangerous and thrilling and probably very stupid. But she wanted it anyways. “Not really,” she said quietly as she ran her hands down his chest. “You’re very good at what you do.”

His eyes went dark, the humor bleeding out of his expression. “And what is it I do?”

“That feels like a leading question,” she teased, wiggling even closer to him, daring him to drop his arms and wrap them around _her_. But his scowl prompted her to finally say, “You kill people.”

He shook his head. “Almost.” He leaned in and whispered, “I take people apart with my hands.” Damon glanced down at where her hands rested on his abs. “And sometimes people enjoy it.”

“I certainly am,” she shot back.

“We’ve only begun, princess.” He raised his scarred eyebrow at her, grin spreading wide. “You gonna just stand there? I like being admired but I thought you had -”

Ilya shut him up with a kiss as her hands slid down, down, down, fingertips feather-light over his skin, to where his pants clung to his hips. 

And then his pants were on the floor and his tongue met hers and she couldn’t stop from groaning in relief. He touched her then - _finally_. Damon’s hands deftly undid the belt on her robe, then pushed the material down her shoulders. One hand slid around the back of her head, the other skimmed her neck before tilting her head, opening her up to him. 

Damon slid his lips from hers and when she protested, he chuckled. “Settle in, love. It’s going to be a long night,” he whispered against her neck. His tongue flicked out, tasting her.

Ilya could barely think for want of mapping every inch of him with her hands. She kept exploring, nimble fingers dancing over lean muscle and warm skin. When he shivered against her, she drew him closer. Felt the heavy, hot weight of him against her thigh. 

“Bed, now,” she growled, giving his ass a playful swat - if only to test its bounce, she told herself. But he hissed in response and thrust against her. “Something the matter?” she asked, eyes wide at his reaction.

“Not in the fucking least,” he said as he pulled back to look at her. “Just promise me you’ll do that again.”

Ilya fought so hard to keep the lecherous grin off her face. She lost that fight. “Smack your ass?”

And then her mouth dropped open as he slid a hand down his chest, traced the deep V of muscle from his hip to his groin. Then grabbed his hard cock. “If you know what’s good for both of us, you will.” 

She shoved him and he tumbled gracefully onto the bed, quickly arranging himself to make space for her. “Nuh uh, turn over Reznor,” she said, twirling her finger in the air. “You asked so nicely, after all.”

The thunderstorm on his face told her everything. On the same man in a very different situation, she would have figured she was an inch from getting cut from neck to navel. But all the light went out in his eyes and he obediently flipped onto his stomach, wiggling his ass at her a little for show. 

He felt the bed sink as she climbed up, then the brush of her robe on the back of his thighs. Damon bit out a curse that turned into a strangled groan as she grabbed a handful of his backside and squeezed. “Fuck, Ilya. Please.” He took a deep breath and turned to look at her. “I’ll let you know if it’s too much. Promise.”

“Okay then.” The power was going to her head, seeing this beautiful man willingly lying prone before her. Just waiting for his punishment. Later on she’d probably not know what possessed her but here, now….it was too good to resist. “Never thought you were one for begging.” Ilya traced a thick, deep scar on his back with her thumb. “And I’m just so busy with all those scars you bragged about earlier.”

“Please.” Damon shifted against the sheets, dragging his cock along the cotton. Desperate for any friction. _Desperate for her_. 

So open. So vulnerable. So willing to put himself in her hands.

How could she resist?

The first smack was tentative. Testing. It immediately created a void in his mind, precious space he usually couldn’t carve out without intense concentration. “Again,” he growled, trying not to whine at her. 

She brought her palm down on his left ass cheek this time, the sound ricocheting off the walls. The blow stung and he jumped against it, hips pumping into the mattress. “Yes?”

“God, yes.”

Ilya brought her hand down again. And again. Each blow landing exactly on one or the other globe. His skin grew hot under her palm but he never yelled or said stop, just growled and thrust into the sheets. After the eighth smack he shot up, pulling her to him. This kiss devoured, claiming her lips and her breath as he pinched her nipple through her thin shirt. The yelp he got in response made him chuckle.

When Damon pulled back and looked over her flushed face and kiss-swollen mouth, he grinned wolfishly at her. “You are trouble,” he said, dragging a thumb over her bottom lip.

“You like it,” she shot back.

“Trouble? When it looks and kisses like you, yeah...I do.” He plucked at her clothes. “Off. Now.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Or?”

All the humor left his face. “Or I get one of my knives and cut them off.”

The moment her clothes were thrown onto the floor, Damon pinned her to the mattress and started sucking and biting a hot trail across her body. Ilya thrashed against him, hips canting against his, her breath hitching with every little red mark he left. He twisted and tweaked her nipples until she was a writhing, sobbing mess beneath him.

“Oh, you have no idea, princess,” he muttered against her hip. “We’re just getting to the good stuff.” His eyes met hers over the soft swell of her belly and breasts. “You’re okay?” She nodded and he shook his head. “If you’re ever not, you tell me. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” With that settled, he turned his attention to gently pushing her knees apart. “Come on. Want to see you.” When she finally dropped her legs to the sides, he ran a soothing hand along the inside of one knee. “Do you trust me?”

“Wha….what?”

“Do you trust me?” 

The earnest, open look he gave her shook something loose inside. It made her heart constrict painfully. “Yes, I do,” she said in a harsh whisper. “I do.”

“Then let me do this. Cause I haven’t thought about anything other than this for a while.” Damon slid down the bed, hooked her knees over his shoulders, and licked a wet stripe across her folds, slipping his tongue just inside to probe gently.

Ilya threw her head back and moaned. “Oh my _god_ .” When he just chuckled at her, she blindly swatted at his head, missing by a mile. “Damon, you’re going to _kill me_.”

“Told you I take people apart with my hands.” He winked at her. “And sometimes my tongue.”

She couldn’t stop herself - she balled her fists into the sheets, scratching for purchase against the onslaught of his lips and tongue on her delicate, overheated flesh. She really was trying to be quiet but it was difficult when every little nibble and lick made her gasp. 

Damon could hear her breathing hard, felt her quiver under his hands as he held onto her hips. She was the most sensitive creature, all nerve endings and open, honest pleasure - completely, utterly devastating and delicious. He knew she would be but now it was truth, reality. It wasn’t some ghostly pleasure conjured up in the furthest recesses of his imagination. She was real, and here, and letting him do one of his favorite things _ever_.

There was nothing like eating someone out to make him feel powerful. Wanted. Needed.

“Damon, oh my god, please,” she begged, finally managing to get her hands into his hair. She pulled - hard - and another part of his brain shorted.

“Trouble,” he whispered against her skin before rising up to pull her to him. “Come here.”

Ilya’s limbs were so shaky it took her a moment to crawl to him. He guided her with strong, steady hands, letting her warm skin soothe the calluses on his palms. And when she was hovering over him, arms wrapped around his neck, her kisses raining down on his cheeks and mouth, Damon pulled her down as he lifted his hips up. The gasp she let out as he seated himself inside her rattled him to his core.

“Christ you’re so wet. So good.” He had to stop from shouting the words so everyone on the goddamn ship could hear him. He instead clutched at her hips, running all ten clever fingers over her slick skin. 

“Damon,” she said breathlessly, clamoring for him, her nails scraping down his back. He bucked against the sensation, eyes rolling up in his head against the sharp-sweet pleasure of it.

“Move with me,” he said, just on the edge of begging as he began to circle his hips, gaining a better angle. She clenched around him, the pressure enough to drive him mad. “Come on, Ilya, you can do it.”

With a growl, Ilya rocked her hips forward, pushing that last inch of his cock inside her. “Fuck!” she gasped, letting her head drop so she could kiss him deeply.

Slowly they began to move together, kissing messily as they went. Ilya felt the sweat drip down between her breasts but when Damon ducked his head to lick it away, she let out a strangled cry and dug her fingers into his thick hair. 

“Ilya,” he said, a pleading tone winding through his words. “You can take a bit more, yeah?”

“Yes, gods yes.” And then she yanked on his hair, pulling his head back so she could look at him. God he was a beautiful mess - eyes blow wide with lust, lips spit-slick and swollen, panting and moaning around her. “But you look at me when you come.”

His nostrils flared and he let out a growl like a wounded animal. “Anything you want. I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t stop moving.”

Damon dug his fingers into her thighs and thrust harder. Faster. Driven mad by a powerful need unlike anything he’d ever felt, he pounded into her, leaving her to cling to him. The sound of flesh on flesh and their moans echoed through the room and just when he felt that telltale spiral of volcanic heat in the small of his back, he heard her say softly, “Damon.”

And the world fell away as he spilled into her, his eyes locked on hers. Her needy, thready cries pitched higher and she broke apart with a sob, fingernails digging into his back hard enough to open shallow little cuts in his skin. “Fuck, Ilya, fucking goddammit,” he cursed into her shoulder. “You’re so good, you’re so good, oh my god.” Her hips stuttered and slowed and he stopped thrusting into her, fearful of overdoing it. Her left hand was tangled in his hair, her breath hot on his ear, and he ran his hands up her arms to gently pull away enough to get a good look at her. 

Damon tipped her chin up with a finger. “Are you okay?”

Ilya forced her eyes open, the haze of lust on her face receding into something softer, calmer. “Yes. I’m more than okay. Are you okay?”

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he blurted out as he gazed at her. She blinked and he said quickly, “Sorry, that just slipped out. I uh….fuck.”

Ilya laughed brightly, pulling him up for a soft kiss. “Don’t apologize. I think you’re pretty great, too.” She winked at him. “No one’s ever let me spank them before. I rather enjoyed it.”


	5. Epilogue

_ One week later _

Ilya scanned the surging, sweating crowd on the dance floor. Batista was the kind of place she’d once longed to go to - jam packed with scantily dressed dancers, their bodies swaying to a hard techno beat. But for a mission, one that could secure enough funds to fix the cargo hold, she hated it.

The puddles of light weren’t enough to see through clearly, the packed dance floor likely over fire code, and she couldn’t even drink because she was “on the job”. Plus Aya had practically forced leather pants and a halter top into her hands before grinning and walking away, whistling as she did.

_ Just you wait, Aya _ , Ilya thought as she sighed and tried not to get distracted by complicated revenge fantasies. But also  _ who thought leather pants were a good idea in a hot, sweaty club _ ? She leaned against the bar, hoping the cool glass and metal would somehow soak into her body and keep her from overheating.

She scanned the crowd once more, her eyes connecting with Bash, who stood on the catwalk above. He nodded when he saw her, then grinned and pointed to his metal arm. In his cybernetic hand he was holding a beer bottle. Her mouth dropped open and she put her hands on her hips, making him laugh. Bash had the nerve to wink at her, raise the glass in a mock toast, and walk away, deeper into the club. 

Hands slid down her hips and she whirled, reaching for her taser. “Easy now,” Damon said in her ear as he drew her close. “You think I was someone else?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t taze your ass,” she said with a huff. “I could have knocked you out.”

“I don’t think so.” He chucked her under the chin with a finger, smiling down at her. The club made his features hard to see but she didn’t need line of sight in order to stand on her toes and kiss him. She took her time, tasting him, letting her tongue tangle languidly with his. Damon’s hands tightened on her hips, pulling her flush against him. She gasped into his mouth and he chuckled. “We’re supposed to be working,” she protested as one of his hands slid around to grab her ass.

“And lucky me, I got to pick my assignment.” He eyed her - and her outfit. “Aya?”

Ilya sighed. “Aya.”

His mouth quirked, like he was holding back a laugh. “You look incredible. Remind me to thank her later.”

Ilya shook her head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” He started to lead her out onto the dance floor, his fingers warm and firm around hers. “Come on.”

“You dance?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

Ilya grinned. “Only pleasantly so.”

Damon pulled her against him once more, their bodies pressed together as the crowd throbbed in time to the music. He ducked his head and pressed his lips to her neck, tasting her sweat and her skin while she shuddered. “I’ll save the other surprise for later.”


End file.
